<USS Meridian> "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables"

From: Lyryn Cate <wistful_fancy@xxxxxxxxx>
To: ussmeridian@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Date: Wed, 25 Jan 2006 03:07:09 -0800 (PST)
**Author's note:  Pardon the angst.  It's a very frustrating 3 a.m. ::smiles:: 
**
   
  Empty Chairs at Empty Tables
  Lieutenant, Junior Grade, Sebastian Palladino
   
   
  USS Aubrey
The Aubrey has just repelled the Borg from their ship and are on orders to 
rendevous with the Fleet to free Earth.
   
  Frustration oozes through my body.  It doesn't twist me round and round like 
a child on the playground swing, pulling tension on my very fibers until my 
feet leave the ground and I swirl to oblivion or projectile vomiting.  Instead 
it naws at me, clawing and tearing at my insides, leaving bloody ribbons of 
tissue, slowly and inexorably traveling throughout my each of my vital organs 
until there is nothing left.  How poetic.
   
  Phantom faces at the window. Phantom shadows on the floor. Empty chairs at 
empty tables where my friends will meet no more.

  Bleary-eyed from the complex inability of sleepless exhaustion, I wondered 
into the mess hall today.  Staring around at other equally bleary eyes, I know 
I'm not alone.  This once crowded hall now sits nearly empty.  Over two-thirds 
of the crew gone.  And my friends?  Every. Single. One.
   
  Dead.
   
  Sara, with her sharp blue grey eyes that always seemed full of mettle and 
storm, even as she was smiling, leaning over to kiss Jacob right under his ear. 
 He smiles a bit, leaning his head onto her shoulder, thinking over his lines 
for the next ship's play.  You can see it in his eyes.
   
  Emily, by far the youngest and most troubled, yet always giving.  She was the 
one there for everyone despite her own issues.  I could count on her to always 
make me laugh.
   
  Sam... Sam was one of the most unique people I'd ever known.  I often 
wondered why he chose Starfleet when all his off-duty time was spent pouring 
through archives researching old music and sharing it with anyone who would 
listen.  He poured his creativity out in books.  Phenomenal books that the 
universe will never see.  He told stories of true love and dedication...  old 
stories, I called them.
   
  I wouldn't know how to begin to tell you about Katie.  She was my only love, 
as she will forever be.  A little pedantic, but sweet with the best intentions. 
 She smiled and she was beautiful.
   
  Oh my friends, my friends, forgive me that I live and you are gone. There's a 
grief that can't be spoken. There's a pain goes on and on.
   
  How can you ask me to put these people into words?!  My soul curses at you 
for even asking me to try!
   
  You want to know how I feel?  You want to know how I've been effected by the 
Borg attack on our ship?  You can't.
   
  Unless you've killed your friends, your friends who are no longer your 
friends, but some shell of your friends trapped inside an automaton's body - 
you can't.  
   
  My patience with you has ended, Starfleet.  Your damn psych-evals and 
prodding questions.  Your required reports on the death of my friends.
   
  I joined the 'Fleet to explore the galaxy, to study new cultures, not to be 
assimilated.
   
  You want to know how I feel?
   
  I feel dead.
   
   
  Oh my friends, my friends, don't ask me what your sacrifice was for.  Empty 
chairs at empty tables where my friends will sing no more. **
   
  **Title and lyrics from Les Miserables
  


                
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<USS Meridian> "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables"

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